


Hopscotch

by Red_Them



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: 10 points if you can guess who they're gonna be, Anxiety Disorder, Aromantic, Asexual Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Families of Choice, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Paganism, Panic Attacks, Parental Riza Hawkeye, Parental Roy Mustang, Platonic Relationships, Romani Character, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Trans Female Character, all the ocs need hugs, each chapter will probably only have one pov but will switch between characters for each, gilles is a good science boi, in which i write a fic with ocs based off myself and my friends lol, quite a few chapters before we get to the good shit, shiro is an otaku, trans character doesn't really ahow up for quite a bit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-09-17 15:33:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16977255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Them/pseuds/Red_Them
Summary: The strings holding their messes of lives are already fraying when The Truth decides to mess with a fatalistic eclectic nerd, a sensitive pastel geek, and an insomniac mechanics wiz. Scrambling, they try to keep these strings from breaking altogether while they try to get back home to their families. But maybe, the families that they're looking for are in an entirely different place.!!THIS FIC WILL NO LONGER BE UPDATED ON AO3. PLEASE GO TO QUOTEV FOR ANY FUTURE UPDATES!!





	1. Proem

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone. This is my first fic ever, a collab with my friend Len (the inspiration for the sweet Shiro). Please feel free to five constructive criticism. Thank you so much!

My alarm makes an unholy sound, waking me up from my uneventful slumber; again. I want to roll over and forget about life entirely, but the upcoming event called school starts in about 2 hours. The thought of class has me wanting to roll over and forget about life even more. More because I’m tired and don’t want to get up, not because I hate school. I untangle myself from my bed, annoyed because I’ve somehow managed to tie the worn sheets to my ankles. I fall off of my two futon mattresses and onto the hard bedroom floor. Groaning in pain and disappointment at my own folly, I crawl over to the fold up chair where I put my clothes for the day. I reach up to grab my pants, and as I do, the chair, and all the clothes on it, fall on to me. 

“Putain!” 

“Gilles, are you alright?” I hear my mother call up from downstairs. 

“I’m fine!” I call, lying. 

I get up off the floor with a groan and change exhaustedly into my clothes for the day. A dress shirt with suspenders underneath a long-sleeve turtleneck with my triscull pendant, cuffed jeans, a jean jacket with pins, patches, and racing stripes, a rainbow scarf, mismatched socks, and hiking boots. I'm pretty sure it’s not fashionable, but who the fuck cares. I pull my long hair up into a messy bun, grab my backpack, and head downstairs. My mom is already heading out to the university. After 5 minutes and kiss on the cheek, she's gone. I grab my breakfast, pack something for lunch, and run out the door, checking that it's locked. I'm hoping get to school early so that I can get some of my chemistry homework done before class starts. 

Just a few steps out the door, I realize that the world looks awfully blurry, and quickly turn back to get my glasses. Fumbling to get the key in the lock, I waste a good minute before I can run upstairs to get my glasses. I then sprint as fast as I can to get to the bus stop in time. I end up watching the bus leave as soon I approach the bus stop. 

“FUCK YOU!” I yell in rage to the bus driver, who was now about 5 meters away, and going further, as they don't hear or see me. Either that, or they were just that offended by it….

Or it was just something else which I don't know, or care to know…

I sit down dejectedly at the bus stop and start to text my friends in our group chat before I die of boredom. 

spaceace: GOOD MORNING FUCKERS!!!

spaceace is my username on the platform we chat on, in case you haven’t noticed. A few minutes later, one of my friends responded. 

TheKarateKid: Dost thou kiss thine mother with that mouth? 

spaceace: Back off you egg! 

TheKarateKid: *GASP* Who’s gonna come onto the thing now?

CrazyGearHead: Is that how u talk to your parents @TheKarateKid ?

TheKarateKid: Yes

spaceace: And you’re still alive?!

TheKarateKid: Nope, I’m dead.

CarzyGearHead: Then how are you texting?

TheKarateKid: Did I forget to mention that they give out free cell phones with the best plan at the gates of death? Has good service too! ɷ◡ɷ

CrazyGearHead: What?! Being dead sounds awesome!

spaceace: Guess I’ll die… (･ω<)☆

TheKarateKid: YAS!!! JOIN ME!!!

CrazyGearHead: Is there a way I can come WITHOUT dying? 

TheKarateKid: Yes, you just won’t get the free phone and plan…

CrazyGearHead: FUCK!

KawaiiKittie: 눈_눈

spaceace: I want to die…. (๑ÒωÓ๑)

KawaiiKittie: NO PLEASE DONT!!

TheKarateKid: B-but he should get the free phone! 

KawaiiKittie: da fuk? ◔_◔

CrazyGearHead: @KawaiiKittie GUESS WHAT!! DEATH IS AMAZING!! I WANNA DIE!!! TAKE ME AWAY!!!

KawaiiKittie: ……………………….

spaceace: Read up.

TheKarateKid: Death has free wifi!

CrazyGearHead: WHAT?! 

KawaiiKittie: @CrazyGearHead

CrazyGearHead: Yea?

KawaiiKittie: How much sleep did you get last night?

CrazyGearHead: Why do u ask? It’s not even that late OOOOO THE SUN IS SO PWETTY!!!

KawaiiKittie: ┻━┻ミ＼（≧ロ≦＼）

TheKarateKid: What’s wong?

KawaiiKittie: FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!! ┻━┻ミ＼（≧ロ≦＼）┻━┻ミ＼（≧ロ≦＼）┻━┻ミ＼（≧ロ≦＼）┻━┻ミ＼（≧ロ≦＼）┻━┻ミ＼（≧ロ≦＼）┻━┻ミ＼（≧ロ≦＼）

spaceace: Are you ok? 

KawaiiKittie: What do you think?

spaceace: I’ll take that as a no?

TheKarateKid: Oh hey! Look at the time! I gotta go YEET to the school now! SEEEEE YAAAAA SUCKERS!!! (人◕ω◕)

spaceace: OH YEA? I WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN LATE IF THE BUSDRIVER WASN’T A FUCKING ASSHOLE!!

KawaiiKittie: Fucking arsholetart….

CrazyGearHead: I gtg RUN FOR DA PWETTY SUN!!!

KawaiiKittie: @SpaceAce Wanna meet up later to take are of one in particular I know who’s gonna miss first class? Btw, I gtg.

spaceace: Fine. Ttyl

KawaiiKittie: Bai!

~~~~~~~~~~~~  
After what felt like an eternity, my bus finally arrives, which I hop on gleefully with a childlike thank you. The driver looks at me, seemingly concerned for my well-being.

I watch the trees and houses pass with a new sense of determination. I had spent all of last night studying for an calculus unit test, and I am hellbent on passing the test so that I can go to university in a couple years. I think of all the things that I want to do with my life; going to classes and protests, fighting for human rights, working with the LGBTQ community to increase awareness, living with my friends. I wonder about how large the apartments downtown are, then try to focus back on where I am. This is a city bus, so I need to be alert. Someone pulls the bell. 

As the bus pulls up in front of the school, I feel a new onset of ambition. My heart pounding with anticipation, my blood boiling, I slowly walk up to the school. I have battles to fight today, and with my friends at my side, I will conquer all of them in the most badass way possible. I will succeed at all of my goals, for this morning was only the first act of my story. I take a step upon the concrete, the sound of my thick soled hiking boots ringing against the cold autumn air…

“OOOOOOOO TEH THUN ITH THO PWETTY!” One of my friends, Adam, races past me towards the direction of the sun. He runs into the wall of the school, falls back and tumbles down the stairs cartoonishly, and then gets up and sprints away.

Some friends I have.

With a deep sigh I walk into the school. I trudge up the many, many stairs, up to the floor that has my locker. Why did I choose the top floor again? I stumble over to the cheery blue-green locker, exhausted from climbing 3 flights of stairs, and grab the lock to unlock it… only to forget my combination. 

“MERDE!” I yell, bashing my lock aginst my locker in anger, and I turn around only to see the strictest teacher in the school, Ms. Summa, standing in front of me. Her arms are crossed, and her eyes are narrowed at me in a milk-curdling glare. Her hair is tied back in a severe bun, and she's wearing a sharply cut tweed dress with high heels that are so high that they resemble knives. She looks kind of like what I imagine would exist if McGonagall and Snape fused into one person.

“Gilles,” the teacher starts in a tone that is a much threat as warning, “what did I tell you about swearing in the school?” I feel a shiver run down my spine. If I was in any of her classes, I would be royally screwed. She tends to call parents after as little as 3 swear words within the whole year. At least, that’s what I’ve heard. I’ve never heard from a first hand witness. They say you don’t survive her wrath. 

Just my luck.

\- “Uh, I don’t know. You haven’t spoken to me about it before.” I use one of my many technical truths. She had not spoken to me, however, she had addressed my friend Katie before. I try not to let myself shrink back in intimidation.

Ms. Summa sighs. “Right, that was Katie I was talking to wasn’t it?” She waves her hand in a manner that I know she's going to make my life difficult. “But since you were there, I will not go easy on you Mr. Desprès.” Another shiver goes down my spine. I fear that I may not live through today. All hope is gone, when suddenly…

“FUCKING SHITTY CUNT BITCH WHO CAN GO TO HELL I’M GOING TO KILL THAT FUCKING ASSHOLE OF A BITCH HELL CUNT FUCKY FUCK FUCK SON OF A BITCH!” Katie screams, walking right by us, and the teacher suddenly looks enraged. Ms. Summa starts jogging after Katie, who ignores her, and continues swearing like a sailor while the other students stare at her. 

Now that crisis has been averted, I try unlocking my lock again, and find that I now remember the combination. Thank the gods. I open my locker, put the things I don’t need in my locker, and head to class. 

My first class… Algebra. The class that has a giant test that’s over 50% of our mark. Now that I think about it, Adam is in that class isn’t he? That’s probably the test he was studying for. Oh well. I have bigger things to worry about.

I walk into the classroom and walk to my desk, mentally preparing myself for the tormenting test that is to come. If there is one part of school that you could saw that I hate, this would be it. I never saw the purpose of doing math when it's not related to something important, like they do in Chemistry. At least Chemistry makes sense.

The bell rings far too soon. I pull out my calculator, pencil case, and a bar of dark chocolate. Yes, you heard that right. Chocolate. Anyone with a grudge can step up and fight me. The teacher strides to each desk, handing out the papers for the test. I put my pencil to the paper and begin the behemoth of a task ahead of me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The bell for end of class rings, startling me from my test-induced hyperfocus. I've managed to finish every question for this test by a hair, I just hope that the answers are actually right. I get up and hand the test in, hand shaking slightly from leftover anxiety. Gods, you would think I didn't take my medication or something, with how anxious I am all the time. I stuff my belongings back into my bag and head up to my locker to switch out my textbooks.

I walk over to my locker, exhausted from the test. I open it, and put my Algebra stuff in. A soft, spring, breeze-like presence approaches and start hovering over my shoulder. 

“Awoo?” A high pitch voice says from my shoulder and I turn around to see a young girl who looks like she hasn’t passed grade 8 standing there looking at me with a mischievous smirk, her red hair tied up in pigtails with seafoam coloured ribbon, and her red irises sparkling. She's slightly shorter than me, and she still has the youthful round cheeks of a child, making her many freckles stand out against her pale skin. She wears a light coral skirt and sweater with a seafoam colour ribbon choker and tights and little white maid shoes. This is Shiro, who is currently one of my closest friends. Why she isn’t dating someone? I don’t fucking know. And before you ask, yes, she is in grade 11. She grabs my wrist. 

“We need to find Adam, and fast, before he misses the entirety of this class too.” She says, her tone urgent, and for once, assertive. Before I can protest against skipping classes just to find my friend, she drags me away, only giving me enough time to lock my locker shut. She drags me outside, and into the crisp fall air. She stops dragging me and looks me in the eyes. 

“Now, where was the sun earlier?” She asks, and I find myself getting annoyed at her. 

“What do you mean where was the sun earlier?! We should be in class! Not looking for someone who was chasing the “pwetty sun”! He’ll probably be found the police or some concerned citizen sooner or later!” I say, almost scolding her. And look, I love Adam and all, but my life is screwed if I can't get into university and get a good job.

“That’s exactly what I don’t want happening,” Shiro sighs, “we don’t need him missing more school because he has to deal with a bunch of investigations, therapy, and doctors appointments to find out what’s going on,” she explains, speaking so quickly that I have a hard time keeping up. 

She sighs, and starts to walk away. I give up, and with a sigh I follow her, not wanting her to go alone. This may not be the town that I grew up in, but anxious looking little girls can still get kidnapped here, and I'm not willing to risk her safety for my own pride. Shiro stops for a moment, the wind playing with her pigtails, and then she looks at me with tears glittering in her eyes. 

“I’m scared,” she whimpers, “what if Adam gets hurt?” She twists her hands at the hem of her skirt anxiously. I know now that I won't be able to get out of this. My friends are as close as family, sometimes closer, and I hate to see them upset.

“Alright, fine. We'll look for him,” I concede, “Adam will be fine, we'll find him.” I hold her hands to stop her anxious fiddling. “Adam will be okay.” Shiro looks at me with glistening eyes and squeezes my hand softly.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

We start to walk east in search of our wayward friend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
We eventually find Adam sitting on a bench in the park a couple blocks from our school, gazing softly at the sun. He seems exhausted.

“Pretty sun,” he mutters, “pretty, pretty sun.” I kneel down to his eye level.

“Hey, Adam,” I look at him. He's still wearing just a robotics club t-shirt with wrinkled jeans and sneakers.

He continues staring right at the sun. I wonder how he isn't blind yet. I mean, this has happened before… 

I hold his nose so that he can't breathe. “ADAM! WAKE THE FUCK UP!!!” I yell, but am met with no success. He's starting to go pale. It's time for extreme action. 

I pull out a bottle of water that I was put in the freezer the night before, and dump it on his head. 

“Pretty sun, pretty pre-OH MY GOD THATS COLD MOM!” He yells, and I get ticked off. 

“BITCH DO I LOOK LIKE YOUR MOTHER?!” I yell, and he looks at me in terror. 

“N-no..” he trails off, seeming to be realizing what's happening. He looks down. “You look like my Dad.” He says, and I can just see the smirk playing on his face. 

I frown in distaste. Adam's Dad was always away on business trips, and had no time for his son in his life. “I’m definitely not your Dad. I'm a much better parental figure.” I huff, and he actually looks at me. I realize what I just admitted.

He looks absolutely shocked.“You- you see me as your kid?” he chokes the words out in surprise.

I blush and look away while handing him a granola bar. “Just- just shut up.” I stand up and stand a couple meters away.

I suddenly feel arms wrap around me, and I turn my head and see Adam there, hugging me. I see a tear fall from the corner of my eye, and I hear Adam whine. He then lets go a bit and moves in front of me. The tears are streaming down his face, the look in his eyes saying that he’s grateful. I can also hear the wimpers that give away that he’s desperately trying not to break down. He hugs me again, and squeezes me a little. 

“Thank you.” I hear him choke out. I wrap my arms around him in a hug, and pull him into my chest. By now, I have tears in my eyes too. He nuzzles his face into my shoulder, and we both stand there, in a comforting embrace, with Adam crying in joy. 

“Sorry for crying on your jacket,” he mumbles.

“It's alright, Adam. It's just what families do for eachother.”


	2. Proem Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally end our stay in 2018.

The group of us walk back to the school together, Adam refusing to let go of my hand, and Shiro clinging to my other arm. It's really nice actually. It feels like family. Like how I feel about my sibling, Jackie, who left home three years ago. We're all silent, lost in our own thoughts. Adam looks at me thoughtfully and mutters. 

“I wonder how people get at weed,” he says, loud enough for us to hear. I choke. Where the fuck did that come from? It's actually something that I could answer, but I don't want to scare Adam, so I smirk and look at Shiro and bump into her playfully. 

“You got the weed?” Her face brightens up at my question almost immediately, and she smiles. Adam looks scared. Shiro lets go of my arm, and picks something up from the ground. She gets back up and smiles at me even brighter. 

“Yup! Got the weed!” She cheers happily, giving me a few dandelions. Adam look like he’s wanting to laugh his head off, but also wanting to kill us for making him freak out. 

“Give me that!” Adam says with a laugh, and takes a dandelion from Shiro. I tuck one behind his ear with a laugh. We continue walking, and before long we’re yelling memes and vines out like idiots and acting like we really are high on a drug. In reality, we're high on exhaustion. None of us ever sleep properly.

“You’re my da-ad,” Adam sings to me loudly, “YOU’RE MY DAD! BOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE!” People stare at us, most likely concerned about our well being. Me? I'm blushing my face off. I really didn't expect him to accept my awkward proclamation so easily, much less be teasing me for it. After seeing a sign that says ‘Road work ahead,’ and saying in unison, “Yea, I sure hope it does,” a beep sounds from my pocket. We all stop, look at each other for a moment, and then shrug. It probably wasn't anything important.

We then walk into the school, and as we do, the bell for lunch rings, meaning that we’ve missed the entirety of second class. Well shit. With the two of them beside me, I walk up the many stairs to my locker, and then open my locker to grab my lunch. I then turn around to find that neither Shiro or Adam are with me anymore, and I walk to the usual spot. Shiro’s probably just gone to get food for herself, and Adam has Robotics Club today.

I sit down and open my lunch bag, and realize that everything that was in there had mold it. With a frown of disgust, and wondering how I didn’t notice this morning, I run over to the nearest garbage can and swiftly throw the food out. Great. Now I have to pay for my damn lunch. Swing my backpack onto my shoulders and walk down the stairs to the door.

There's a little pizza place by my school, so I walk over to by some food. I check the prices and my wallet. I have no money. Fuck. Apparently, I'm going hungry today. I walk back to school and meet Shiro at the top stair landing.

“Gilles!” Shiro jumps onto me and throws her arms around my shoulders. “Where were you?”

“I went to get food,” I say, but she looks at me skeptically. Guess I'm lying about it. “But don't worry, I just ate it while I walked.” I don't really mind lying, if it means that people aren't worried about me. I hate it when people look at me with pity.

Shiro frowns at me disbelievingly, but doesn't bring it up, and goes back to eating her own lunch. Things stay a little quiet for the entire lunch break, not much being exchanged but small talk every so often. Maybe it's the new change to our group. I don't think any of us realised how close we were getting. And for a group where most people have family issues, being family can bring up some heavy baggage. 

Before long, the bell rings and we separate to go to our different classes. Next up, chemistry! Finally. Chemistry is my favourite class.

I race down the steps to my classroom. Oh most beloved learning space, how I love to make explosions within your walls. The teacher is a fiery, middle-aged woman who loves to call out historical figures on their bullshit and complain about funding to the sciences. I can't help but agree. The sports teams get way too much money. I grin when I see the topic on the blackboard. Magnesium oxide and burning magnesium. Fuck yeah! I drop my bag at the side of the room, pull off my scarf and jacket, and grab my pencil case and goggles before heading to the lab bench. The experiment sheets are already on the tabletop, and I read it through while I tie up my hair, which had come loose over the last few hours.

I've already set up for the experiment when the rest of the class files in. A minute later, Ms. Crossvale walks in.

“Wake up, meerkats,” she yells, “we've got an important lab today and I would prefer if no one went to the hospital today.” She gestures to us. “The instructions and safety procedures are listed on the page. Get in groups of four. Don't get yourselves burned or blinded.” She sits down at her desk and glares at us as if to drive the point home.

I pick out the two other nerdiest kids, Scott Brown and Suri al Jamil, and the known pyromaniac, Jaime Hughes. None of us want to be stuck in a group that does it wrong, or doesn't care, so we work pretty well together. 

“Please, please, pretty please, can I light the bunsen burner?” Jaime jumps up and down and gives some of the most effective puppy eyes that I've ever seen. Suri, Scott, and I exchange looks which roughly translate to:

‘Should we?’

‘It would make them happy…’

‘I don't see why not…’

I shrug. “Sure.” Jaime grins wide and quickly finishes filling out the balanced equation. Scott gets up and gets the magnesium from the teacher. However, it's Suri that takes it and places it down, since Scott is known for being a bit of a clutz. 

Jaime lights the bunsen burner and proceeds to stare at the flame. Well, at least someone's happy today. Suri carefully places the magnesium in the crucible after Scott weighs it, and places it over the flame.

Ten minutes later, we turn off the bunsen burner and allow the crucible to cool. Jaime looks a bit less ecstatic, but is still their loveable self. I crush the magnesium oxide to be sure that all the magnesium burned. Scott does the last measurements, and we pack up the lab equipment and toss the magnesium in the metals disposal bin. We all sit down and write in our reports.

We've nearly finished our lab reports (in my case, I'm finished) when something goes wrong. We hear a scream from across the class and turn around on time to see Bryce Smith, the school jock, set his shirt on fire. I honestly don't know if it's funny or worrying to watch him struggle to put out the flames.

“For God's sake, get the fire blanket!”

A second later, one of Bryce's friends tackles him to the ground and rolls him in the blanket. At the same time, the fire alarm finally does its job. Everyone rushes to shut off their gas pumps and get out the door. Bryce's friend is carrying the now burrito-like Bruce out the door like a pro. I grab my bag. Yes, I know that you're supposed to leave it, but I'm one of the last out, the fire has been neutralized (as far as I know), and I have literally everything in there. I run out the door and slip through the crowded hall to the double door exits. I'm jostled around by the students. I can hear their grumbles.

“This better not be a drill.”

“Are you sure I can't just let the flames consume me?”

“Better than English, I guess.”

“Is that dude's shirt smoking? No, not the hot way, I mean I think there's actual smoke coming from his shirt.”

Ugh, it's so loud. Also, to whoever you were in the hallway, no one would think you were calling Bryce hot, he's a dick. Geeze, you would think that people would talk less in a potentially life-threatening situation. I've finally reached the sidewalk, where we're supposed to wait until we can go back inside. I have to agree with the person in the hallway, though. This is so much better than English class. I sit down on the grass and wait for them to either call us back in or dismiss us.

I feel someone touch my shoulder. I whip around, startled. Adam stands behind me, hands on his hips and smirking mischievously.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he taunts, leaning on me, “what brings you ‘round?”

“Oh, you know,” I say in a snooty tone, “I was just in the neighborhood and thought that I'd drop by.” We look at each other for a good three seconds before bursting out in laughter. Adam's nose is wrinkled and the tips of his ears are tinted pink from the cold. We take a few deep breaths to compose ourselves again.

“So, do you know what happened with the whole fire thing?”

I wave my hand vaguely. “Bryce was stupid, as usual. He got his own shirt set on fire.” I snort. “What a fucking idiot.” In case you haven't noticed, I really dislike Bryce. You know, just on the principle that he's an egotistical asshole.

“Wow, how do you even manage that?”

“Incompetence.”

I lay down and we sit there in silence for a while. The silence is… strange. I don't know what to say. 

“Hey, Gilles?” Adam's voice is quiet and nervous.

“Yeah?” I look at him. He isn't usually so reserved with us. Something is definitely up.

“Are- are you sure,” he stammers, “are you sure that you- that you want to be family with a mess like me?” He looks doubtful and sad. I… I don't like it. 

“Adam,” I say firmly, sitting up and holding him so that he has to look me in the eyes, “you are brilliant, determined, and fucking wonderful. I am fucking honoured to be your family. If you'll have me. And fuck all that shit about being a mess. We all have shit that we need to work out. And even if you are a mess, you're my mess, idiot.” I'm near to tears at this point, and I'm pretty sure people are staring. “So yeah, I'm pretty fucking sure that I want to be family.”

He looks shocked. And happy. And a million other things that I can't identify. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls his face to my chest.

“Thank you.”

I ruffle his hair fondly. “No problem. Now don't doubt me again, you asshole.” I can feel his huff of amusement against my jacket.

“Roger.”

We stay there till the bell rings and the teachers say that we're dismissed and that we'll be updated on what happened tomorrow. Some people look frustrated as hell because they left their things inside, and they can't get them until the fire brigade checks over the school. Thank goodness I took care of that. Ugh, but I really don't want to get up. It's been kind of nice, just hanging around with Adam. Besides, I think he had even fallen asleep for a couple minutes there. And believe me, he needs the sleep. This is the guy who pulled an all-nighter last night. I shake his shoulder.

“Hey, Adam, get up, I've got a bus to catch.” He rubs his eyes grumpily and groans.

“Do I have to?”

“You do if you want to see me alive tomorrow.” I feel him tense and then give me one last hug before sitting up.

“You better get going then!”

I stand up, throw on my backpack, and ruffle his hair.

“See you tomorrow.” 

I walk away and then run to the bus stop, which I actually manage to get to on time, unlike this morning. It's a welcome change. Maybe my day won't suck after all. I ride the bus all the way back to my stop and run home. Oh, the freedom of a day without homework! I open the door, go in, and call up to my mom. I feel a bit woozy from not eating anything.

“Hey Mom!” I wait for her reply. Instead, I hear footsteps and the heavy fall of feet on stairs.

“Gilles François Erik Desprès!”

Oh shit.

“‘Hey Mom’? Are you serious? I got a call from your school today saying that you missed second period! And on top of that, you're doing drugs? Who do you think you are, young man?”

“Wait, what? Drugs?”

“Don't act innocent, Gilles, I heard it! ‘You got the weed’? What the hell? How long have you been taking drugs? Do you usually skip class to smoke weed?”

I realise what's going on. The sound that I heard near the end of period two was my phone. And my mom thinks that I was taking drugs. I have to explain.

“No, mom, I'm not on drugs! Shiro, Adam, and I were joking around and-”

“Don't lie to me,” her voice goes cold, “go to your room now. I'll deal with you later.”

“But-”

“Now.”

I run upstairs with my bag, boots, and jacket still on, and quickly close my bedroom door behind me. My breath catches in my lungs. Holy shit, what am I going to do? I'm close to a panic attack. Merde, breath. I go to my window and open it up to get some fresh air in the room and close the curtains to cut down on the light. I close my eyes. My head is pounding from anxiety and a lack of food. Food… I glance at my bag. I know it's a bad idea, but… I reach into it and grab a chocolate bar. At least it's something. 

Next, I grab my phone and plop myself underneath the weighted blanket on my bed. I decide to message Nikki, who I haven't talked to all day. I swipe my phone open, and there's a text from an unknown number. I take a bite of the chocolate bar.

???: You're needed elsewhere. I'll be collecting you shortly.

I close my phone and put it on my bedside table. That was disconcerting. Did I get a message meant for the mob or something? Great, now I'm stressed. But I know I'm going to be stressed later, too. Maybe I should just try to relax while I can. 

I lay down and stare blankly at the window. My eyelids feel heavy. Wow, I really didn't realise how tired I was. It's dark, maybe I could just sleep? No, I probably shouldn't. But I feel more and more tired. Uncharacteristically so. Is it just me or is the room darker? I want to get up, but I feel like my limbs are made of lead. I feel panic start to set in. Was I drugged? Was the chocolate poisoned? 

I reach for my phone, my fingers scrabbling weakly at the top of my bedside table. If I can just call mom and say something, or the police, anyone! I manage to grab the edge and pull it towards me. Just… an inch… closer. It falls off the edge. Merde. I try to reach down, but I can barely move and my hand falls roughly on the floor. I feel numb and tired. No, you have to stay awake. You don't want to die, stay awake! What can I do? 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7… Um… list the elements! 

Hydrogen, helium, lithium,

… beryllium, 

… boron… 

… c-

… carbon… 

… ni-

… nitro-

… nitrogen… 

I see an eye open on my floor like a horrific shutter lens, black and white and grey like a hypnotism toy, concentric circles and arms and hands and- and then all I see is black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again! Finally with another chapter! Just so you know, I try to update as quickly as possible, but depending on which fic I work on, updates will not be consistant! Be sure to check out my other fic. You'll find a reference to that fic in this chapter, as well as a Hamilton reference. Also, the meerkat thing actually happens, my science teacher calls us that because we always startle to a straight backed position when she calls our names, lol. And as always, a big thank you to my collaborator Len!


	3. Unfamiliar Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally get to the good kush (and the main plot).

My eyes flutter open to a well-lit room. I can hear murmurs from behind me. I notice that I'm on a couch that I don't recognize. Which means that I'm somewhere I don't know. 

I take a page out of every mystery novel I've ever read and try to assess my situation without moving. I've got my scarf, boots, and jacket on, and my hair is loose. I can feel the distinct shape of my house key in my pocket, as well as my swiss army knife. I'm in a tastefully decorated room with a low-lying table and another couch- no, a canapé- across from me. My glasses are on the table. Beyond that I can see tall windows all along one wall, curtains hangings at intervals, not in use. The other walls are undecorated, but the one opposite the window does have two doors on each side. Should I get up? I can still hear whoever is here murmuring, just quiet enough that I can't make out the words. I decide that it's worth the risk. I swing my legs off of the couch and use the momentum to sit up. I grab my glasses and put them on. I can now see that what I thought was a pillow on the other canapé is, in fact, my backpack. There is a soft murmur of surprise.

“... Where am I,” I mutter, and I turn my head to see a woman with blonde hair and brown eyes dressed in a type of military uniform of deep blue and white. She notices me and looks at me with a look of surprise, but also a kind, relieved smile. 

“You’re awake.” She says, and then slowly walks over to me and kneels down. “How are you feeling?” 

Now that I think about it, I'm pretty well rested, unusual for me. I also notice that my hair is untangled, which is practically unheard of unless I've put it in a french braid and put a crap ton of hairspray in it. I look at her. “Unusually well.” I want to say, ‘Now are you going to answer my question?’, but the military uniform reminds me to bite my tongue. Something tells me that my usual sass wouldn't be appreciated here. Also, since I'm obviously somewhere related to the military, I revise my original question. “May I inquire as to how I got here?” Thank you, victorian crime dramas. 

A dark haired man speaks up from behind her. 

“We were actually hoping that you could enlighten us on that.” His voice is clipped and aristocratic, and his dark eyes glitter with ambition and calculating wit. I can tell instantly that he's someone that I don't want to mess with. However, I can also tell that he's got a soft streak somewhere. After all, he is very obviously the superior officer, as shown by his uniform, and I'm in his office. I look at him straight in the eye.

“Sir, if I could bring clarity to the situation, I would have asked where I was, not how I got here. I unfortunately have no idea how that happened, so here we are.” I resist my urge to wince at just how sassy that sounded, even if I was telling the truth. Okay, so maybe the last part is technically a lie, I know that it has to do with whatever happened before I passed out, but I'm still in the dark about most of it.

The man pinches between his eyes. I could swear that I hear him mutter something about, “Great, now I have to deal with two disrespectful teenagers.” I glare at him. This attitude is not helping my damn anxiety, so I can't resist being sassy right back.

“Great, now I have to deal with a sarcastic adult. Thanks a lot, Mr. Has-a-higher-rank-than-the-other-person-in-the-room.”

The man looks at me, seeming taken aback by my response, maybe even a little surprised. He to smirks a little, and rests his chin in his hands, his elbows on the desk. “The name is Colonel Roy Mustang, kid. And you know, you're right. I am the superior officer. Which means that I could easily arrest you for your attitude.” He threatens, and a shiver runs down my spine. I definitely fucked up. I must have been really wrong in my originaĺ assessment of this guy. Hopefully I can dig myself out of he shit I just got myself into.

“I-I’m sorry Mr- Colonel Mustang- sir!” I quickly say, about to give a quick explanation when he puts his hand up to silence me. My words die in my throat.

“You don't need to explain.” He says, and then get up and walks over to me. He kneels down in front of me. My heart is pounding so hard. Without sass or rambling, I've run out of ways to cope with anxiety. He stays quiet for a second, and I have to stop myself from digging my nails into my arm. 

“You're lucky I’m not any other officer,” he says. I deflate with relief. I'm not in the deep shit that i thought I was. He looks at me straight in the eye, which is a lot more comforting than it sounds. I can now see the playful and warm gleam in his eyes. And the concern. “Especially considering your situation,” he looks at me sympathetically and trails off for a second, seeming to be debating on whether he should continue. My situation? What does he mean by that? I can feel my anxiety converting into nervous energy as my mind races to find the answer. I can feel my fingers tapping out lines of morse code while I think. Should I ask him? Is it safe?

The lady beside the Colonel gives him a sharp look. “Sir, I don’t think you should’ve toyed with his emotions like that,” she says with a sigh, and the man tries to act all innocent. They seem like they've been friends for a long time or something, with how they act around each other.

“I simply don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says with that ‘I’m so innocent’ tone, and look, which unexpectedly suits him, oddly enough, in the most adorable way possible. He's still kneeling, face turned to her with a brilliant smile and playful eyes. He looks back at me with a smirk and stands up again. “I like your attitude, kid.”

I literally choke on air. And then I wheeze out, “Thanks, you're the first.”

“What?” He looks vaguely concerned.

Oh, did I say that out loud? “Oh, um, nothing,” I giggle nervously. Yeah, real smooth Gilles. They totally can't tell that you have serious self-esteem problems and anxiety.

“Self-esteem issues?” The woman peers at me curiously, and I follow her line of sight to my fingers. Oh. Have I been tapping out my thoughts this entire time? Fuck. I thought I got out of that habit years ago.

“Uhhhh, no… where did you get that idea?” Yeah, bluffing game on point there, Gilles. Not suspicious at all. Mustang smirks at her with a shit eating grin.

“Blunt much, Hawkeye?” He sends a cheeky grin my way. “I apologize for the conduct of the Lieutenant, that was irrelevant to our discussion.” I get the distinct feeling that he's only apologising because it's military conduct. Hawkeye gives him a blandly unimpressed look.

“Sir, at least I'm not Edward.”

Suddenly, the door swings open, the handle making an indent on the previously perfect wall. It makes a loud bang when it hits, startling me off the canapé. I hear a loud shout.

“YO, BASTARD!”

A shout? That means some dick just threw the door open. I stand up, profanities on the tip of my tongue. I nearly trip on my scarf when I stand up. I turn to face the asshole, who happens to be a shorter blond kid, a couple years younger than me, dressed in a red coat. Oh, so he's one of those brats who thinks they can get away with bad behavior because of their age. Fucking dick.

“Connard! Va faire t'enculer! Ne le fait pas encore,” I rant, pointing at him, “tête carré! Quel sort du bâtard fait ça? Sacré bleu de tabarnac, sacré main de cholice! Petit putain!” After delivering my final insult, I check to see my handiwork. The kid looks properly confused and terrified. Serves him right. He falls backwards on the leg that wasn't used to kick the door open, and onto the floor. A towering suit of armour leans over him and giggles.

“Gee, brother, I was gonna tell you that kicking the door open was a bad idea, but it seems someone beat me to reprimanding you!” The sentiment is appreciated, but damn, that voice just sounds creepy as shit coming from that giant suit. Like, damn. The person looks at me, or at least, I think that they do. A bit hard to tell with that helmet on. “Sorry about my brother, he does this every time. I think this might be the first time that he's been yelled at by someone outside of the military for doing it, though.” He looks contemplative. “Or, at least I think that's what you were doing.”

To say the least, I can now officially feel awkward. I just yelled at someone's brother in French in front of two military officers. I run my hands down my face in exhaustion. “Merde. Est-ce que c'est possible pour ce jour d'être plus mal?” I look at the guy and sigh. “Yeah. I kinda berated him.”

I hear a cough behind me and turn to see the Colonel's perplexed face. “Excuse me, but what in Truth's name was that language?” 

I start to blush and ramble. “Well, um, French is my first language- well technically sign is my first language- and well I have a really bad habit of slipping into it when I'm angry or tired, so-” I'm stopped by Mustang holding up his hand.

“You know what? Forget it. as long as you didn't give him a death threat or call him short, it'll be fine.”

I blush in embarrassment. “Well, I didn't call him short, but I did call him a little bi-” The mention of the word little seems to revive him as he sits up and starts yelling and cuts off my sentence.

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING A TINY LITTLE PIPSQUEAK THAT YOU COULDN'T SEE WITH AN ELECTRON MICROSCOPE AND THAT SLIPS BETWEEN QUARKS INTO LIMINAL SPACE?”

Sheesh, this kid is almost as loud as Katie. I turn back to him with an unfeeling glare. I notice that his brother has scooped him up by his jacket collar and that his legs are kicking from above the ground.

“You, putain,” I deadpan, “I thought you understood that, or are you dumb as well as rude?” 

The kid looks at me for a second, mutters an insult under his breath that I couldn’t quite make out, and then stomps over to Mustang after slipping out of his brother's grasp, seeming to be blushing in embarrassment. The suit of armour walks up to me. “My name is Alphonse Elric, and that’s my older brother Edward.” He says sweetly, offering a handshake. 

I shake Alphonse’s hand, which is distinctly colder than I expected, and then look at Edward as he’s talking with Mustang, who looks like he has a migraine from how much shit he's had to deal with today. “You mean he’s the older brother?” I say, feeling rather confused. 

Alphonse sighs, as if he knows exactly what’s coming. “Yea, he is, I’m guessing it’s because of the height difference, isn’t it?” He asks, and I look at him. 

“Not exactly. You also seem a lot more mature than him. And the way you talked to me after I scolded Edward; definitely big brother energy.” I explain, and Alphonse nods, seeming to understand what I mean. “In fact, you kinda reminded me of my own sibling.”

Alphonse giggles a little, and scratches the back of his neck. He's in the type of posture where I can imagine that he's blushing. “Oh, thanks. It's kinda refreshing to hear that for once.”

I know what he means. “Yeah, as soon as you're taller, everyone thinks you're older. My sibling is a year older than me, but because they're shorter than me people get confused all the time.” I glance back at where Edward and Mustang are bickering, before continuing. “Speaking of age, what are two kids doing at a military base? Is Colonel Mustang your dad or something?”

Alphonse giggles, which, for the record, is the cutest thing ever. “Oh geez, no. If the Colonel were our father, Ed would have murdered him by now.” Ah, I can understand that sentiment. “Nah, Ed is a State Alchemist. Colonel Mustang is his superior officer.” I choke on air.

“Sorry, what? You're in the military?” I don't know if the full extent of my shock can be expressed through my voice. “But aren't you still minors?” Wait, if they're minors, can I get roped into the military? 

“Yeah, “ he admits, “But brother used a loophole in the system to get in so that he could have enough pay to take care of me.” They… what? “The Colonel was actually the one who pointed out the loophole. Brother pretends to hate him, but he's actually been really helpful.”

“O-oh.”

There's a natural lull in the conversation as I take in the new information. I consider what I now know about both Edward and Mustang as we look over at the bickering man and teenager. Even if they're arguing, you can tell that they're fond of eachother. I guess I was right about Mustang having a secret soft spot, after all. He really is a good guy. I find myself growing a small smile as a common saying from my sibling's boyfriend pops into my head, ‘Wow, what a dad’. I sigh fondly. Jackie's boyfriend is such a nerd. I miss them both already. 

However, the calm is broken shortly after, when a slightly disheveled officer with short, blond hair and a still lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth bursts in through the door. He seems extremely alarmed. “Sir! We just got a report from Risembol about a very similar situation that we’re dealing with here.”

Edward quickly steps forward upon hearing this. “Winry!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I am in highschool, so I really am trying to update this more... it's just really difficult, especially while working on a second one as well... I'll try my best to have the next one out sooner!
> 
> Translation of the French:
> 
>  
> 
> Asshole! Go fuck yourself! Don't do that again! Blockhead! What sort of bastard does that? Holy Mary, mother of God, of the holy tabernacle of Christ, sacred hand of the chalice! Little bitch!
> 
> Shit. Is it possible for this day to be worse?


End file.
